


And A Thing Called Love

by pipdepop



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur is too tired and too drunk to be giving relationship advice but he tries, Fluff, Gen, John’s a brat but he means well, literally just brotherly fluff, not the ACTUAL birds and bees talk but just as important, past arthur/mary, pre-game, short n' sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26188168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipdepop/pseuds/pipdepop
Summary: Trouble is, John seemed to have got it into his head at some point that, when it comes to Mary, Arthur needs to be saved from himself; and that he, John Marston, was the man – or scrawny brat – for the job.Which hadn’t really mattered that much, until today.
Relationships: John Marston & Arthur Morgan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 60





	And A Thing Called Love

**Author's Note:**

> ~~I WILL post a fic this month I WILL post a fic this month I WILL post a fic this month I WILL post a~~
> 
> Title is from ‘The Birds and the Bees’ by, as it turns out, Jewel Akens (I’d only ever heard the Dean Martin version!)

And to think, the day was going so well.

Arthur takes another mouthful of whiskey, pointedly ignoring the pouting fourteen-year-old standing before him, hands on hips.

“Well?” John demands.

“Well what, Marston?” he asks tiredly. But that just makes the kid bristle further.

“You could at least say thanks!”

_“Thanks?!_ The hell do I have to thank you for? Besides ruinin’ what was a nice afternoon?!”

“Gee, I dunno Arthur, maybe ‘thanks for saving me from that harpy’, or ‘thanks for stopping me from making a fool of myself’, or ‘thanks for not letting my heart get stomped on and kicked to the curb _again!’”_

Rather than dignify that with an answer straight away, Arthur knocks back some more whiskey. Trouble is, John weren’t around when he was with Mary – he showed up in their lives when Arthur was at his lowest over the whole thing, a couple of months after Mary had broke off their engagement. Kid only ever saw the bad parts, not the good. And he seemed to have got it into his head at some point that, when it comes to Mary, Arthur needs to be saved from himself; and that he, John Marston, was the man – or scrawny brat – for the job. Which hadn’t really mattered that much, until today.

He’d run into her purely by accident – walked out of the general store and there she was, pretty as a magnolia in May, as always. And they’d ended up going for a walk along the river together – purely just as old friends catching up, of course. And it was _nice._ He’d forgotten just how easily they talked together; cracking jokes, sharing secrets, and chatting about whatever came to mind. For the first time in _months,_ Arthur was able to forget about the chores, the jobs, the Plans, and just be himself for a couple of hours – just _breathe,_ and enjoy the good company. The beautiful, smiling, radiant good company.

And then a feral little brat showed up and ruined everything.

“Sure, John,” Arthur drawls, “thank you, ever so much, for insultin’ someone I care about, makin’ Dutch and Hosea look like a pair of degenerates who don’t know how to raise a child properly, and scarin’ off one of the few people outside of the gang I can talk to honestly without gettin’ the law called on my ass. You’re a _great_ help.” He raises the whiskey bottle to him in a toast, then takes another swig.

“She was being mean to you!”

“She was just calling me out on-”

“She was _just_ being a bitch!”

Arthur carefully exhales through his nose. Mary was right – he was too quick to anger at people who didn’t deserve it. And, while he’s fairly certain it could be argued that John _absolutely_ deserved it right now, the kid’s only fourteen. So he inhales, and, seeing as yelling at John to lay off when it comes to Mary hasn’t worked these past two years, tries a different approach.

“So, let me see if I’m gettin’ this: when I call her out on her bullshit, I’m ‘standin’ up for myself’. When she calls me out for _my_ bullshit, she’s being a bitch. That right?”

_“Yes,”_ John hisses vehemently. But then he makes a face, and Arthur can practically see the cogs slowly starting to spin inside his thick skull. “Well... no. Maybe. Sort of?”

“Don’t think too hard there, Marston, you’ll strain something.”

“Shut up.”

Kid still looks confused though, so Arthur sighs – he can’t quite decide if he’s had too much, or not enough whiskey for this conversation. But, he tries.

“John... look. When two people love each other, in real life, it ain’t like in those dime novels Hosea gets you to read. It ain’t two people so smitten with each other that they don’t see each other’s faults. If you think the person you love is perfect, and they ain’t got a single flaw, then you ain’t in love, you just _blind._ Because ain’t _no one_ who’s perfect. Sometimes, the people you love will hurt you, and you’ll hurt them, even though neither of you mean to. But if you really love ‘em, the things you love them for will make up for the things that hurt – and you try to do better for them, and they try to do better for you. Sure, Mary’s said some nasty things to me over the years, but I’ve done the same to her. That don’t mean we didn’t love each other.”

John seems to mull this over.

“So... people can be horrible to each other, but still love each other?”

“Yeah – well, no, I mean, there’s levels of- if a man’s hittin’ his wife, _that_ ain’t love, but if it’s just-” Dammit, where’s Bessie when you need her? She’s much better at explaining this shit.

“Love – real love – it’s... complicated, kid. But if you truly want the best for each other, then...” he trails off with a helpless shrug. He’s too drunk. He’s too sober. He doesn’t know.

“...so, people can _say_ mean things, but if they love each other they don’t really mean it?”

“Sure. I say mean things all the time to you, don’t I?”

John stares at him.

“Are you... saying you love me?” 

_I know you’re a kind man, Arthur. Why do you insist on acting otherwise?_ Mary had asked. 

Right. Be more kind.

“Well, sure. You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re still my brother.” 

That... probably would have earned him a frown from Mary, but it’s still enough to make John stare at him with such wide eyes that he ducks under the brim of his hat. Not sure what to do with that look of surprise.

But hey, it feels _good,_ this kindness thing. John’s always been insecure about his place in the gang, constantly assuming they’d toss him back out on his ass any day now, acting out all the damn time, almost as if he wants to annoy them into proving him right. Maybe that’ll all change, if the kid’s safe in the knowledge that he’s truly loved and cared for.

Then he looks up and sees the shit-eating grin on John’s face, and realises that of course, there’s no way in hell.

“You _love_ me!” he crows. “All those times you threatened to leave me in the woods, or ship me off to an orphanage, you didn’t mean it! You wouldn’t, because you _love_ me!”

“Watch it, Marston,” he warns. But nothing will stop the kid now, and he knows it.

“You _love_ me! You ain’t ever gonna toss me into a lake!”

_“Wanna bet?”_

But John’s already running. Arthur’s faster, but the whiskey’s making him clumsy and he keeps tripping up, and John’s small and nimble and cackling as he darts through the trees, managing to squirm free every time Arthur grabs a hold of him. By the time they make it back to camp, they’re _both_ breathless and laughing so much they don’t even mind when Miss Grimshaw takes one look at them and immediately shoos them towards one of the rain barrels, demanding that they wash up before they step foot in her camp. 

Arthur sketches John that night, twigs in his hair and impish grin on his face – is forced to put his journal away when John comes into their tent and immediately sprawls across him. Kid doesn’t even make the pretense of sleeping in his own bedroll anymore. But that’s fine – Arthur’s long given up the pretense that he minds. They settle in, and Arthur thinks John must already be asleep. But then there’s a sleepy mumble in the dark.

“Hey Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“Love you too, y’big oaf.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was originally going to be the final flashback in [Bright Moments Like These](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24101074), before I decided I wanted them all to sit within the Chapter 6 timeframe (so if there are a couple of lines that sound familiar in here to people who’ve read that fic, that’ll be why.) But I liked this version too much to get rid of it – and figured it works okay as a oneshot?
> 
> Either way, as always, thank you for reading <3
> 
> PS Apologies to any subscribers (I love each and every one of you) reading this who were hoping for something longer since it's been ages – work’s been hell but we wrap up a big project next week, so hopefully I’ll be able to finish up a bunch of WIPs soon <3


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